


The King Has Left...

by Malu_3 (Grainne)



Series: Merlin Summer Pornathon 2014 [9]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Crack, Gen, Humor, Jobseeker!Arthur, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 20:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2283117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grainne/pseuds/Malu_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's back, The Big Quest has yet to reveal itself, and Merlin's tired of him sitting around on his royal arse. He never intended for <i>this</i> to happen, but all famous Brits these days have to do Vegas a least once, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The King Has Left...

**Author's Note:**

> Entry for the WEEK 2 BONUS CHALLENGE: ROCK 'N' ROLL!

"You're joking."

"No, Merlin, I assure you I am not."

"Yes you are."

"Am not."

"Are."

"Amn't"

"That’s not a word."

"It is in my English."

"Your English isn’t really English. Hasn’t been for centuries. I thought we'd covered this."

"Are you calling me a has-been?"

"No, I'm calling you the _worst_ King Vegas has ever seen."

"I am an excellent king, Merlin. It's what I _do_. Now, if you will excuse me."

Merlin covered his face as Arthur pushed past and strode down the hotel corridor in his hired rhinestone-studded white satin jumpsuit, red cape flaring. 

Arthur stopped short before the suite door, opening his mouth to shout for the guards before remembering the little rectangle of plastic he'd been issued. He shifted his instrument to his left hand and dug it out of his belt, waving it at the door.

"Merlin!" he called, looking over his shoulder. "Merlin, it's not working."

"You have to stick it in the slot, with the arrow facing… Never mind, let me."

Merlin elbowed Arthur aside. After some sleight-of-hand, the locking mechanism whirred and clicked and flashed green, the handle depressed, and the door opened. 

Arthur pasted what he thought of as a suitably royal expression on his face; he was all set for his grand debut when Merlin clutched at his arm.

"Please, sire, at least – "

"Enough!" Arthur hissed, batting him away. "Merlin, _you're_ the one who suggested I get a job while we wait for The Big Quest. I've been cooped up in your squalid chambers doing research for _months_ now, and I've finally found something for which I am well-suited."

"But – "

"One more word out of you and I'm ripping up those tickets to Thunder from Down Under."

Merlin knew defeat when he saw it. He raised his hands and stepped back into the corridor. Let the mother of the bride or any of the half-dozen horrible bridesmaids ask Arthur why their Elvis was blond and rocking a medieval lute instead of a Gibson or a Martin. 

The worst part was, with the way Arthur was filling out that jumpsuit, they probably wouldn’t even notice, let alone care. He'd probably be mistaken for a stripper and stagger away padded with dollar bills in places he hardly needed any more padding.

"The King has taken leave of his senses," he muttered. Then, remembering the miserable wait, the centuries of no king at all, he grinned, announcing, "Long live the King!"

A group of shit-faced pensioners, exiting the lifts, cheered.


End file.
